You find your room mate is on his way out

It surprises you not even a little to find your room mate Tristan gussying up in the living room mirror when you arrive. You've been living together for two years now, though you had known each other since Freshmen year of college more or less. He's a good enough roommate, he's clean, he cooks, and he flips the take out menus upside down when he's entertaining guys off Grindr in his room. He's also cute, in that twink art major way, with warm copper skin, a feminine heart shaped face, silk black curls, and a pillowy, perfectly round ass, but you've only ever flirted, if quite a bit, and copped a feel once or twice: enough to know he prefers panties to boy shorts, and silk to lycra, though he loves both. For the sake of peace among room mates, neither of you thought it a good idea to sleep with the other, no matter how tempted dry spells made it.

Not that you ever need to worry about that again.

He's dressed to party, in black skinny jeans that hug his well defined calves almost as well as they hug his pillow ass, and a loose white blouse he almost certainly bought from the women's section. He doesn't even look up from mussing his head of black curls _just _right when you enter.

"Don't you have paintings to finish?" You call out as you close the door behiend you and drop your keys in the clay bowl you and Tristan keep by the entrance. "When I left you where mopping about in your bathrobe and complaining about delineates."

"I am going out to look for a muse." Tristan fires back, apparently happy with his hair, he starts adjusting his jeans waistband so just a hint of purple Lycra will show.

"You're going out to find a dick to ride until you can focus." You say heading into the kitchen to grab a snack, you hadn't eaten since last night, to **** to try out the BCR.

"Don't you have a homophobic prick to go pine after?" Tristan shouts back at you. Their's no malice in the words, you two are good enough friends that you can snip at each other like this without striking a nerve. "What where you doing at the gas station this morning?"

"It's still morning! And getting soda." You respond, a bit lamely. Tristan finally turns from the mirror to raise a single, plucked eyebrow at you. "I forgot it." You explain, still sounding lame.

"Uh-huh." Tristan rolls his eyes and turns back to the mirror. That reminds you that Jason will be here eventually: likely not soon, but his new **** addiction will drive him here sooner or later. If you want you could try and persuade Tristan to stay out the whole night out and give you the apartment....or you could make him your next target. There's an appeal to a harem of pregnant, worshipful men. It's not like you've never pictured Tristan heavy and waddling with your baby, bare foot and loving it. Still it might be better to focus on one man at a time...